The religious often seek blessing, a manifestation through an informed intermediary that God is watching over them, aware of their circumstances.

Thus do buildings, soldiers and their hardware, baseball bats, cars in car shows, motorcycles, marriages and babies get the treatment (and those are merely the ones I’ve witnessed), and it matters little which church, temple or mosque sponsors the ritual; a prayer of petition, a ceremonial cleansing by water (called a lustration, an act that goes back to the ancient Greeks and probably beyond), and bingo, a renewal of the covenant between God and the faithful (oh, bingo; I’ve seen bingo halls get blessed as well).

Thus was I in the parking lot of St. Andrew’s Church in the Town of Tonawanda last windy weekend, witnessing a pet blessing. In early October, the Christian church recognizes the feast day of St. Francis of Assisi, whose love of animals was legendary and whose commemorative honor can be expressed by bringing pets to church. So there we were in the autumn bluster, dodging raindrops as 25 or so dogs and one cat (in an elegant fiberglass cage known as a pet carrier) faced St. Andrew’s Monsignor Richard Siepka for a strange, charming and off-the-cuff religious service.

It was short but sincere. Dogs were barking, acting up and trash-talking each other (and one miscreant was banished by its owner to a truck, where he watched the proceedings through the vehicle’s window), but the conflict quickly subsided and by the end they were quiet and orderly. Like they had their church manners with them.

It is no secret that pets are life’s companions for many people, considered integral parts of families. We teach and scold them like we do children. They are comforts, they share our progress through life and we mourn their passing. Consequently a pet blessing isn’t a dog show or a show-and-tell class, it’s the day a family member who doesn’t often go to church gets an opportunity to participate in a family event.

So there they were, Siberian huskies and lap dogs and Rottweilers and indeterminate mutts and a big fluffy cat, with owners who dressed for the weather and not for church, each ready for a prayer and a blessing. And in that fine Ken-Ton tradition, no one inquired who was a church parishioner and who wasn’t, and the fancy animals were not segregated from those that didn’t know they weren’t fancy.

Father Siepka complied; wearing the priests’ basic black and without ceremonial vestments, he recited Christian prayers, then walked amongst the faithful and their faithful companions with an aspergillum and aspersorium (the tools of blessing, what one Catholic called “the sprinkler and the bucket”), and each animal received a spray of consecrated water (the door of the truck was opened to likewise bless the noisy troublemaker).

This could have been a silly and preposterous performance worthy of a sitcom, with unmanned leashes, snarling animals and a slapstick feel. Instead, it was a brief but earnest acknowledgment of the importance of the pets in our lives. A song by American folkie Bill Staines points out that “all God’s critters got a place in the choir, some sing low and some sing higher, some sing loud on the telephone wire, and some just clap their hands, or paws or anything they got.” It was like that, a celebration of the people-pet partnership.

There is a Biblical injunction to subdue the earth. Thus we are stewards of creation, and that includes our household domesticated livestock. Our pets.

I have been to several of these things in my life, at various local churches, and frankly it was the weather that kept this year’s celebration at St. Andrew’s from being bigger and more elaborate. No matter; it delivered what it promised, a moment for the church to bless the union of family and pet, and a moment to reflect on how a dog or cat or bird in the house enhances the quality of that house’s life.

St. Francis of Assisi is associated with more legends and stories than Babe Ruth, valued whatever strengths come from poverty, had no use for flashiness and could commune with the natural world to the point that, on his deathbed, he thanked his donkey for tireless service and, it is said, the donkey wept. While I doubt the various Christian churches promote every bit of his lore, he clearly had a connection with the animals in his life. So do those assembled in a Tonawanda church parking lot on Sunday afternoon. Take Your Pet to Church Day is a splendid idea.

Ed Adamczyk is a Kenmore resident whose column appears every Friday in the Tonawanda News. Contact him at EdinKenmore@gmail.com.